


mixed messages

by sizhu



Series: maybe you should switch to decaf [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 06:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sizhu/pseuds/sizhu
Summary: Viktor really ought to check his mailbox more regularly. But this time, he might just be glad he let the mail pile up.Follow-up toDecaf or Bust





	mixed messages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skowronek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skowronek/gifts).



> this is for [Skowronek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Skowronek/pseuds/Skowronek) who inspired me to sketch out a follow-up of decaf or bust.

****Viktor left the cafe with a bounce in his step. He may have been cut off from caffeine for the rest of the day, but he certainly gained something far better than a temporary energy boost. After all, the _very_ cute barista said he could go back the next day. Tomorrow, he'd said. Viktor nearly buzzed with excitement. Not even his thesis (which he'd been avoiding for the last week) could dampen his good mood. _Yuuri._ That was his name. Viktor had loved the way that name felt on his tongue. He couldn't wait to go see Yuuri tomorrow. But for now, he had to get home, walk Makkachin, feed her, and try to get _some_ semblance of work done. Though he had the distinct feeling that he'd be distracted the rest of the evening. Because, really, no one had the right to be so disarmingly beautiful. When Viktor had first stepped into the cafe that morning, he had wheezed, feeling as if he'd been punched in the gut and laid bare, enraptured by ink-black hair and deep brown eyes. It was almost as if he'd found the next Helen of Troy.

So, naturally, he had to go back four more times. At that point, it wasn't even for the caffeine anymore. He just wanted to see that angel face. Viktor knew he wasn't subtle at all—the other two that were in the cafe from his last visit (more so that dark skinned boy that was Yuuri's co-worker) had caught on to the reason for his frequent visits. But god, the beauty that was Yuuri was _awful_ for his wallet. Viktor couldn't bring himself to care.

Oh.

He was back home already. His feet must have carried him back on muscle memory alone. Well. Perhaps he shouldn't obsess over the cute barista while walking somewhere. It was a good thing he _wanted_ to go home. With an amused huff, Viktor unlocked his door and pushed inside, bracing himself for impact. As always, without fail, Makkachin charged across the room and jumped up on her hind legs, pawing at Viktor's chest. Viktor laughed, ruffling the fur at her cheeks affectionately.

"Who's a good girl?" Viktor asked, grinning. "Who's a good girl?"

Makkachin barked, tongue lolling out of her moth as her tail whipped from side to side with enough force to give a man a concussion.

"That's right!" Viktor cooed. "You are! Good girl. Best girl. Wanna go for a walk?"

Makkachin chuffed and pushed at Viktor again. His grin widened.

" _Walk_?" This time he emphasized the word with a rising, cheery intonation. It was too much fun to tease her like this. Makkachin growled without malice, as if she were saying _Of course I want to walk! Hurry up, let's go!_ She barked, dropping to all four paws and dancing around Viktor's legs. He asked again, and that time she barked. Once, twice. Then she started pawing at the door. "Hah. I guess you do want to go."

Makkachin barked again. Viktor laughed and pulled her leash off the wall hook. Makkachin immediately sat down, still and patient with only her tail moving, _whumping_ against the floor. Viktor smiled at her, ruffling her fur and clipping her leash to her collar. She really was a good girl. Viktor was lucky that she'd taken to her training as a puppy so well. He'd heard horror stories of puppies that end up expelled from obedience school.

Viktor stood an opened the door to let her out. They stepped into the hallway together and padded off for their afternoon walk, though passerby would call it a jog, and scrunch up their nose if you even thought it could be a _walk_. But that was neither here nor there. Both dog and master had excess energy they needed to burn before one could focus and the other could nap.

 

 

Two two returned from their outing with Makkachin a pleasantly pooped pooch. Viktor, on the other hand, was winded. He leaned against his knees for a moment to catch his breath. He wheezed out a soft laugh. Halfway through their walk, it had turned into a run. "You sure wear me out, Makka. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

Makkachin chuffed at him, content. Viktor smiled. He ruffled her fur and started to head back to their unit, but paused. It had been a really long time since he'd last checked his mail… He sighed and turned back to the wall of mailboxes. He fished out his key and opened the box, letting out a tiny, very manly, _eep!_ at the flood of mail spilling out onto him and the floor. With a long suffering sigh, Viktor gathered all the mail into his arms and finally took Makkachin home. Once inside, Viktor dropped his keys on the table by the door. He unclipped Makkachin's leash, hung it back on its hook, and dumped his mail on the kitchen counter. Makkachin whined at him. He smiled, apologetic. "I know, I know. You're hungry. Me, too. But let's take care of you, first."

Makkachin _wuffed,_ using her inside voice. She pawed at her bowls. The water bowl was empty, too. Viktor dutifully filled them both before tossing something from the freezer into the microwave without a second glance. He was hungry enough not to care what it was, just that it was food and it was fast. While Makkachin dug into her dinner, Viktor leaned against the counter and began to sort the mail. _Junk, junk, junk, oh—no, wait, more junk._ _ **Bill—**_ Viktor sucked in a breath, holding it as he tore into the bill. He scanned its contents before deflating.

"Thank _God_." Viktor ran a hand through his hair. The bill wasn't past due. He really needed to start checking his mail regularly. He set the bill aside and continued sorting through the last pile. _Junk, promotional ad (junk), Grocery flyer (potentially useful), jun—_ Viktor paused, staring at the last few envelopes in his pile of junk. These weren't addressed to him. They… Well, he supposed that it _could_ be easy to read a _55_ as a _56_. At least the owner of these letters was just across the hall.

"Alright, be good, Makka." Viktor pat his girl's head. "I have to step outside for a bit. I'll be right back. _Behave_."

Makkachin ignored him in favor of her dinner. Viktor shrugged and headed back out, grabbing his keys just in case. He didn't want to accidentally lock himself out. As he crossed the hall, he double checked the address on his not-mail. Yep, they were meant for unit 55. Viktor hoped he wasn't disturbing his neighbor. He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

"Just a minute!" The tenant on the other side called out. Viktor breathed a sigh of relief. His neighbor was home, and they sounded friendly enough. The sound of stumbling came from the other side of the door and Viktor winced at the _thunk_ against the door itself. It swung open to reveal his Helen. Of Caffeine.

"Uh—hi?" Viktor swallowed the lump in his throat. Was his mouth dry?

"Hi." Yuuri squinted at him—his glasses were resting on the top of his head, half hidden by his messy black hair. "Viktor…?"

Viktor shifted from one foot to the other, trying to shrink under Yuuri's gaze. "I—yes? I should hope that's me."

Yuuri snorted softly. He shook his head slightly. Viktor worried he might dislodge his glasses. "You didn't follow me home, did you? I'm not obligated to caffeinate you after my work hours."

"N-no—!" Viktor stammered. "No, uh. I live across from you. Some of your mail was in my box?"

"Are you asking that as a question?" Yuuri snorted again. He tilted his head to look up at Viktor. He was still squinting. Viktor shuffled.

"I—yeah—no. Some of your mail ended up in my box. I didn't notice until I got in to sort through it."

"So _you're_ the one with the box that's always about to burst open." Yuuri rolled his eyes. "You _really_ need to check that more often. What happens if you miss a bill?"

"That's what I said!" Viktor grinned a bit sheepishly. "To Makkachin. She didn't answer. She was too busy eating. Are you okay? You're squinting a lot."

"Uh," Yuuri said, intelligently. He blinked. "I couldn't find my glasses."

"Uh… Yuuri…" Viktor stared at him. His eyes traveled between Yuuri's face to the glasses atop his head a few times. He gave Yuuri a soft smile and plucked the glasses from his hair. Then he slid them onto Yuuri's face. "Is that better?"

Yuuri squeaked. His face flared up to a nice crimson, from neck to hairline, even reaching his ears. He busied himself adjusting his glasses even though he didn't need to. It was probably the cutest thing he's ever seen (barring Makkachin). Yuuri swallowed, looking up at Viktor again.

"So—my mail?" Yuuri mumbled, unable to meet Viktor's eyes.

"Oh! Right!" Viktor startled. He'd forgotten he was carrying it. He handed the envelopes over with a shaking hand. "I can't believe I forgot."

"Thank you," Yuuri said. He flipped through the envelopes to check to see if he'd missed anything important. His shoulders relaxed when he realized he didn't have to start freaking out. "Uhm. Do you—"

"Hm?" Viktor totally didn't lean in closer, totally didn't sound too eager.

Yuuri leaned back, but didn't take a step. Shoot, Viktor really needed to have some self-control. Still, Yuuri hadn't bolted. Instead, he seemed to steel himself. "It's not tomorrow, but—do you want to come inside…? I can put the kettle on for tea."

"That'd be lovely." Viktor counted it as a victory that he didn't squeak. Or stutter. Or otherwise make a fool of himself.

Yuuri smiled so brightly Viktor had to wonder where all that nervousness went. He just smiled back. They stood there for a minute before Yuuri jolted with a soft, sharp _oh!_ , and stepped aside. Viktor thanked him and slipped by, looking around as he walked inside. The layout so far seemed to mirror his apartment. But Yuuri's home was much… _Homier_ than Viktor's. It was definitely more lived-in. His was austere to a fault, despite having such a lively roommate. Viktor realized, with a start, that he hasn't lived much of a life at all—neglected in favor of his graduate studies. And that godawful thesis.

"Sorry it's such a mess," Yuuri said, appearing behind him. "We—well, I—wasn't expecting company. Phichit's out for the evening and he lives here so it'd be odd if he knocked."

"Oh—no, don't worry about it, Yuuri." Viktor smiled at him. "I think it's quite charming."

"I—thank you?" Yuuri visibly shivered. It was with no small amount of pride that Viktor noticed it was right as he said Yuuri's name. And the light flush on his cheeks, too. Yuuri was _adorable_. Yuuri shuffled by Viktor, padding along the carpet and into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Viktor watched him move, placing a hand over his heart. It was pounding in his chest. Yuuri was going to be the death of him. Whoever said perfection didn't exist clearly hadn't met Yuuri.

"It's not tomorrow, like you said," Viktor started, following Yuuri into the kitchen, "but could I… Could I take you out for dinner some time?"

Yuuri squeaked and dropped a teabag—fortunately it landed in the mug it was intended for. He turned toward Viktor, eyes wide. "I—uhm. I—what kind of tea do you drink?"

Viktor blinked and covered his mouth to hide his smile. He didn't mean to startle Yuuri into a change of subject. "I'll have what you're having, Yuuri. So, uhm…?"

"I…" Yuuri bit his lip, pulling out another teabag and let it drop into the second mug. "Why? I mean… I'm nothing special."

Viktor frowned. Could Yuuri just not see how amazing he was? Viktor ran a hand through his hair and turned his frown into a reassuring smile. "How about you let me take you to dinner and I can show you just how special you are?"

The kettle whistled over Yuuri's embarrassed squawking. Viktor probably should have chosen his words more carefully… He waved his hands gently, trying to calm Yuuri down as he took the kettle off the burner to make it shut up—he didn't want Yuuri to risk hurting himself in his nervousness. He bit his lip.

"I mean—" Viktor swallowed. "Not like _that_! I promise! It's just a normal date, I swear. Unless you _wanted_ that—I couldn't possibly say no to you. But—"

"Viktor." Yuuri wheezed, catching him by the wrists before he could knock something over. "It's—it's fine, really. Uhm. Dinner would—it would be nice."

"Friday?" Viktor asked, tone rising in hopeful uncertainty.

"Friday." Yuuri nodded. "But not tomorrow."

"Not tomorrow," Viktor agreed. "Because tomorrow I'm getting my caffeine fix. And seeing my newly acquainted Helen of Troy."

"What."

"Nothing!" Viktor grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> i like punny titles.


End file.
